High School PANAMUSICAL!
by YouTube Is Not Michigan
Summary: An exciting tale of romance and deception. The first chapter is quite confusing, but keep on reading, I promise the loose ends will tighten. Please Read & Review!
1. Beginning: Start Of The End

High School PANAMUSICAL IN SUPERCOLOR (featuring Mary Sue as ??)

By Mr. September

_The last thing I'd want you to think is that I'm not serious._

_I truly am. In all certainty, I manage to be minimally cryptic. However, (pan to left), I can't imagine a life without you._

_Mary Sue_

Troy looked at the magazine with a blank look on his face.

"Bitch." he remarked.

He was a measurer. Most people do not understand the meaning of this term, but I will not describe it. It is for the reader to decode, and I shall not do it for them.

_She stayed ignorant, (pan to right, lighting up), and followed the baron off the cliff of despair. If only she had not listened to the venomous lyrics he had wrote her in the final stanza of his great epic. If only._

_Mary Sue_

"I would attempt not to make such a remark to a man of his stature."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Mary Sue?"

"I intend not to rhyme, at least not this time."

SLAP.

"The pain has rung through my brain, am I insane?"

"YOU BITCH!"

SLAP.

"The autumn breeze has always had a calming effect, hasn't it?"

_Ah, Troy Bolton, the ultraviolent, man slaughtering demon of the ocean that is the depths of Golden Raiden. Had she only not listened to his bitter words._

_Mary Sue_

If she was the only normal little twat around here, I would be rich. If I had a dime for every time I slapped her across the face I would have twenty cents. I wish I had the whiskey back. Damn you, you silver bearing knight of Raideon.

_Raiden and Raideon, you ask? They are the rival kingdoms of the Pandemonium Circle. (Pan right, lighting down, spotlights M.S.) Had I not told you of their rivalry, you would be very confused and not getting this story all down. Had I told that the bells of holidays past were ringing through my cerebrum I would have gone insane years ago._

_Mary Sue_

"Call me, girl." Cyrus' eyes shone true in the blue pools of light that surrounded his iris.

"You're such a devil, Cyrus!" Her eyes wanted to look deeply into his, her heart dressed with the feelings of repressed emotions.

_Oh, Cyrus. His compositions made me swoon from the alcohol I had consumed from the pungent aroma of his cologne. Until his horrible, unfittedly named Sister Angel, ruined us. Her fat hung from her sides as she strutted into the room armed with her ebony lingerie. She engaged in a tribal dance in front of Cyrus, and in order to resist, Cyrus had to cover his pure eyes with his soft palms. I believe it is time to reveal my true identity, I am Gabriella Montez. Troy has violated me in so many different ways, I have learned to grow apart from the name. From now on, I shall be referred to as my new name, Mary Sue._

_Mary Sue_

Cyrus slammed on his drum kit so hard, the crash cymbal flew off from its position and slit his throat perfectly, his scarlet blood raining down from the wounds the cymbal had created.

"CYRUS!!" The sound came from so deep within my being tears began to flow from my eyes.

I rushed to his side, trying to tend his wounds. But lo, it was too late, and then, the man slaughtering beast came through the door.

"YOU DISRESPECTFUL LITTLE WHORE! COME WITH ME!" Troy screamed angrily into my face, traces of saliva brushing my cheek.

He dragged me off down the private driveway, I was expecting the worst.


	2. PostBeginning: Start Of A Story

Second Chapter.

Welcome!

Boot...Start

_This is the beginning of a horrible emotional decision. I only wish you to listen to my worthless pleas, for I am nothing but a ragamuffin now._

_Mary Sue_

"GET IN THE CAR!" Troy shouted at me, the sweat pouring down his furious face.  
"OKAY!" I replied, filled with horror.

Then the dry-humping began to ring it's horrible sound.

"OH YEAH, YOU LIKE THAT DRY-HUMP, YOU WORTHLESS STRUMP!"  
"Argh!" I cried as his undeniable chafing began, he was reaching his breaking point as his stamina decreased.

"AHHHHHH...intermission." Troy moaned as he got off of me and wandered around the Wal-Mart parking lot.

His bloodshot eyes spoke a story of a terrible past, filled with many sorrowful tales of his journey through the Golden Raiden Army Reserve. His cries of fatigue echoed through his empty mind as his ever-so red tinted eyes fluttered with the sight of my fully clothed, yet dry-hump ridden clothing.

"Jesus Christ, Mary Sue, you're body is like a hurricane of curves and delectable dessert with alllllllll the fixings. Intermission's over baby. Time for some violent, primetime dry-humping." Troy spoke with a smirk.

A nervous smile came across my face as he approached me for another horrible round. I needed to escape, I needed to find Cyrus.

_After the violence, I eventually escaped Troy and went to go find Cyrus. His throat still bled his beautiful scarlet blood, and I put my finger in the flow and touched it to my chapped lips. It's taste was undeniably delicious, and the scent of his pungent cologne still lingered in the air. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship between the dead and the living. An amazing connection for both of the worlds to fall around each other in an unavoidable rain of painful tears. It was the beginning...of Cyrus' Revival._  
_  
Mary Sue_

"THROW IT AROUND!!" Troy screeched as he threw me across the kitchen, my head making impact with the stove.  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING??" I yelped as the recoil bunched my neckaler.  
"DON'T THINK OF IT AS A FIGHT, IT'S AGGRESSIVE DANCING!" Troy shouted, his madness in full bloom.

WAIT A MINUTE...PAUSE.

"Mr. September, do you truly find this entertaining?" NecakServ-100 asked myself.

"Well, not exactly, it's dark humor, but it's not like I find it amusing in real life."

"Ah."

BOOT AGAIN!

_Hidden in my self-pity, I wandered the streets and threw myself into the hands of the cruel nightlife. I went to clubs, parties, and tupperware extravaganzas. It was almost like a dream when I stumbled into a club where I found him. The Master Of Golden Raiden._

_Mary Sue_

"BAMMM!! PEANUT BUTTER _AND _JAM!"


	3. PostPostBeginning: Start Of A Revival

Welcome. To The Third. Installment. Of. THE PANAMUSICAL!

Anddddd...begin!

_ Yet again, Troy returned to the city to find me. My scarlet eye-liner shone true as I began to write the message on the wall. For I was a Sister Of Blood now, and there is nothing I can do to return to my previous being. I had become one of them. One of the Community of Blood. I had to breathe life into Cyrus' deceased body before it was too late. Before I was driven mad by the sound of his breathing forever lingering in my mind._

"MARY SUE! HOW DARE YOU RUN FROM ME AND JOIN THESE REBELS FROM RAIDEON!" His voice was hoarse from all of the shouting he had done the previous afternoon.  
"Troy, I will not come with you, never! I love Cyrus and that is final!"  
"You strump! I'll slit your throat like I slit Cyrus'!"

In that moment of time, everything stopped. I could not regain composure, for I was convinced that the cymbal had ended Cyrus' life.

"W-w-what? Y-y-you killed Cyrus??" I was shocked.  
"And I'd do it again, you were cheating on me with that bastard son of Raideon!"

_Blackout._

_If I had known where I was at that point in time, I would've been able to recall the Master of Golden Raiden telling me a story, a story of how to revive Cyrus. I know that the instructions are somewhere inside my mind, but I cannot begin to comprehend how to dig them up out of the deeper recesses of my memory. Shortly after Troy had locked me in his fortress, the Rebellion began. The Raideonions and the Golden Raideners had began to battle. The rivalry had gone full circle, and the members of the Pandemonium Tribe could not stop the rage that fueled the bloody battles. Only the Community of Blood could rescue me from his clutches now, all I could do was sit there and wait._

"Hello??" I cried out into the darkness of the putrid dungeon Troy had locked me in.

But then, to my surprise, I heard a shuffling sound coming from the opposite side of the dungeon. It sounded like shuffling of used loafers from some type of pawn shop. So I imagined whoever was wearing the loafers was either very poor or had a ridiculously horrid taste for shoes. The shuffling began to crescendo as the figure got closer and closer. I snuggled myself in the fetal position, expecting something terrifying was in store for me. It became louder, and louder, and louder, and louder! I began to perspire mildly as the figure stood inches away from me.

"Hello, my dear." The figure said through the darkness.  
"W-who are you?" I asked in fear.  
"I am the man who is going to help you on your journey. I am the Master of Golden Raiden!" He said triumphantly.  
"B-but, I thought you were killed in the raid last night!" I replied.  
"No, I escaped just in time before the raiders reached me. Now, I see you have been viciously dry-humped, and you seem to have minor injuries."  
"Yes, but I'll be fine."

And then, before I knew it--

_Blackout._

_ Some say that the ideas of former beings are extremely useless. The measurers of society look upon the eyes of their citizens and smirk while the new ideas they receive they bat away with their arms of authority. The Rebellion had become horribly violent now, thousands have been left dead on the streets, and their blood flows into the sewage systems beneath the ground. I weep for the afflicted. And now, it is time for my journey to begin, for the revival of Cyrus to take place. For the rebellion, to fall._

The man who called himself the Master of Golden Raiden truly was who he said he had been. He taught me everything about revival chants, and showed me the plots of the underworld to rise and defeat the rebels. However, the master would been overthrown that night, he had predicted it during his morning brunch. The crown shown true on his forehead, fatal stabbing wounds marked an X on his chest. He entrusted me with the power of the Mastery. I needed to help him rise again, along with Cyrus. Only then, would we be able to defeat the rebels.

That worthless whore. She escaped again with that Master Man or whatever his damn name is. Once I destroy the silver bearing night of Raideon, I shall have my whiskey back, and return to absolute power. Mary Sue may laugh now, but I will have my revenge, mark my words!

"Su-Sama-Po-Koku-Raiha..." I had chanted throughout the night trying to revive Cyrus, I had even covered myself with scalding hot margarine exactly as the Master had said, but nothing was working.

A frown came upon my face as I realized it was not margarine I had scaled myself with, but it was one hundred percent, dairy fresh, buttermilk bacon fat. In despair, I flung myself on top of Cyrus' corpse, cursing and screaming into his blood soaked chest. Tears ran down my cheeks as I cursed the world and myself for being so naive.

But then, I got up, and decided that I would not be naive anymore. I was the only link left to the Master, and I had to save the world from the Rebellion.  
I put on some margarine, and began to get it scalding hot.

I would not lose this war.

Even if it did mean I couldn't consume the delicious buttermilk bacon the Master left behind.

Not now. Not ever.

_Blackout._


	4. AlmostBegins: Story Without Coherence I

_Spirius. A naive strumpet of a man, he always cornered me..._

"Dick hangin'?"

"Not really, what is it that you want, Spirius?"

I knew that he was a supporter of the rebellion. I could see through his greasy smile that he had consumed many transfats the evening prior, and that some vicious dry humping may lie ahead. Nevertheless, I continued on with the interrogation of his plump and disturbingly tumor-ridden frame.

"Well...lemme look at mah calendar...let's see here."

He scratched at his tumors violently, pus starting to ooze from the open wounds.

"Looks like you're in luck, missy." The greasy smile returned to his putrid face, his features tightening as his body inched towards me.

_The negative ions began to rumble deep inside my pancreas; the nervousness and anxiety building to an explosive orgasm of pain, all I could fathom was Cyrus' bosoms caressing my soft cheeks once again. I knew not what to believe, for Troy had taken responsibility for the murder of Cyrus, and I had no one to turn to, now that the Golden Master had passed on._

_Then it hit me. I knew precisely how to solve my problem. I needed to revive the Golden Master. (Pan slight right--shit adjust the camera--)_

"There's something you need to return to me before I can grant you your small favor."

"What's that?" I replied, knowing now that dry humping was in the near future.

"Sword. Fight."

"...What?"

_Some people have extrapolated on the facts of past events. This isn't relevant to the subject at hand, however it seems to bother me every now and then when one references a bullet point on the giant graph that is Human Life. I feel the vague populace crucify me with factual evidence, and although my opinions seem to lie in the same spectrum as Lucifer's, I ponder on love alone in a bedroom. Well, not a bedroom, a closet. There are so many different types of vermin in this world...rats...among others..._

"A sword fight! The babbling brooks of yesteryear have spoken of this phenomena for ages! A duel between two species, you being the weaker of the two of course, however--"

"What? What did you say?"

"Babbling brooks?"

"No, the comment about weakness. It was offensive."

"Oh--what? Oh, don't be a wretch, 'tis the workings of the world. Misogynism is the new Chivalry in this day and age."

"You are a demented witch of societal norms. FEED ON MY TRANSCENDENTALIST WRATH!"

"A-HA! You cannot use Transcendentalism on me! 'Tis a movement that has fallen beneath all levels of society, THEREFORE DECLARING IT NULL AND VOID!"

"CURSE YOU, GREAT PHILOSOPHER 'newbtranzySI3L3NC3xx1'!!!111"

"Now that I've caught you off-guard...I PLAY ABSURDISM! 'TIS UNSTOPPABLE!"

_Edward Franklin Albee III (__pronounced /ˈɔːlbiː/ __AWL__-bee__)__ born March 12, 1928 is an American playwright best know for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, The Zoo Story, A Delicate Balance and Seascape. His works are considered well-crafted, often unsympathetic examinations of the modern condition. His early works reflect a mastery and Americanization of the Theatre of the Absurd that found its peak in works by European playwrights such as Jean Genet, Samuel Beckett, and Eugene Ionesco. Younger American Playwrights, such as Pulitzer Prize-winner Paula Vogel, credit Albee's daring mix of theatricalism and biting dialogue with helping to reinvent the post-war American theatre in the early 1960s. Albee continues to experiment in new works, such as The Goat: or, Who Is Sylvia? (2002)._

"You use the interjection ''tis' often. Are you aware of that?"

"'Tis no matter--"

"CAUGHT YOU! TIME FOR GODOT TO SHOW UP, SPRING FLOWERS!"

It was then that I stabbed him to death, I was reminded of the slaughterer of man's vicious dancing, but the disturbing mustard colored liquid that began to drip from Spirius' eyes worried me somewhat.

_I suppose suicide was love...one may look down upon me for this, but I do miss Troy...sort of._

Now that Spirius was gone, it was time to put down the rebellion. But before that, I had to shoot an advertisement for a local toothpaste advocate, Reynold Shirley. Then, and _**only then**_, would I be able to revive the Golden Master and Cyrus, and put a stop to the bloody war.


End file.
